The Greatest Birthday Gift Ever For A 1-Year-Old Boy: A Birthday Party At Hooters!

We have no clue who this Henry character is, but he is living the life we would hope our parents would give us if we were born in 2009.

See, back in our day, Henry, there wasn’t a Hooters in a strip mall to celebrate our 1st birthday. We had some shitty McDonald’s where they had these booth chair characters that our mother would throw us on and mention not falling off. BC didn’t get boobs. Yeah, there was the old crusty woman on welfare that was the ‘birthday coordinator,’ but her rack was droopy and reminded us of crusty Ohio women.

Life was hard back then, Henry.

We didn’t have a ‘wing joint featuring 38 LCD TVs’ where the women were implanted and hoping to pay off the college loan by serving a dozen deep-fried wings to some dude who rode into town on a chopper.

That is why, our friend, you recently received “The Greatest Birthday Gift Ever For A 1-Year-Old Boy – A Party At Hooters!”

Henry scoping out breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Back in our toddler days, Henry, the women didn’t wear clothes like this.

Instead, they shopped at places like Fashion Bug and from catalogs that were sent in the mail. Yes, the mail!

And the clothes sucked because they were made in the U.S.A. and didn’t have the stitching creativity of some 6-year-old Chinese girl.

We didn’t have Facebook where we could track down the waitress from Hooters via her page featuring her doing keg stands at Havasu.

We didn’t get to sit on chairs where a group of barely legals sang to us. Our asses were sent outside to the McDonald’s playground where the shitty playground equipment was made worse by the even shittier mulch that was dried out and resembled concrete. Thinking back, it sucked. The bruises and burns sucked even more when we went home to a blazing hot house cooled by a box fan in the window.

Life was hard back then. Cable meant you got a clear picture, free HBO weekends and Chris Berman (you might hear your dad curse his name one of these days) was not yet a huge prick or even important.

Obviously we didn’t have the Internet where our parents could show off photos our adventures with implanted women named Kelli, Jess and Kaylee. The women at our McDonald’s parties were named Becky, Lorna, Lisa, etc. Very boring. And no navel piercings.

Our parents would actually take film to be developed. The little film canister had to be sent off to a special place (We tried to tell them Polaroids would be all the rage at hipster parties in Brooklyn by ’99), which meant showing grandparents in Florida would take 15-18 days because it took 5-7 days to get the prints back and then they had to be mailed. Mailed!

Henry, you have no idea how great life is in the Internet era. Now, sites like Busted Coverage can report your story, add a post tag and then you’ll end up in Google search engines where other cool people from far off places like Malaysia, Tehran, Melbourne, etc. can search for “Cool Places To Celebrate My Kid’s First Birthday,” and find your story.

You’ll go viral, Babies ‘R Us will discover the story and hire you to be a spokes-baby.

We told you, life is good.

Congrats, Henry. Come knocking if you grow up to be a blogger and we’re still alive.